


Catch You, Catch Me

by aerClassic



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hongjoong Has A Secret, Humor, M/M, Non AU, The E stands for Smut, They're all idiots but Yunho is the biggest one, WooSanHwa sort of implied, Yunho Has a Boner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-01 18:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerClassic/pseuds/aerClassic
Summary: Someone that could maybe, possibly,definitelybe Hongjoong runs a twitter account dedicated to posting about their mouth.Yunho finds it totally by accident.





	Catch You, Catch Me

Yunho would like it to be known that he finds the account completely and totally by accident and not at all because he was on a twitter deep dive.

The internet is a vast and wondrous landscape of every weird and nuanced fetish packed tightly between do-it-yourself home makeovers and yummy-mummy food blogs. For every _ one _ post about the best uses for marshmallow fluff, there are about twelve thousand seedier suggestions lurking in the comments. Point is, it’s easy to find the raunchy side of things when Yunho is innocently scrolling through twitter mentions on a day when San is out fucking around with Wooyoung and Seonghwa in the practice room.

The account in question, innocuous on the first scroll through, seems to be run by someone with a praise kink. Every third post is a pouting, “tell me I’m pretty or no pics tomorrow”, or something equally whiny accompanied by a short clip of porn, sometimes a picture of clenched thighs. The rest of the posts are neck shots or hands or a glossed mouth pouting at—

He’s alone in the room, hence the Definitely Not a Quest for Porn™, but Yunho slams his phone face down against his bed as if he’s been caught anyway. His pulse races, fluttering between fast and faster and with the pace it’s setting, it could be a top contender for the Grand Prix—breaking records for quickest time reaching mach 5.

“No way,” Yunho whispers before diving back for his phone and under his comforter. “No _ fucking _ way.”

The pictures say _ way_.

The pictures say, ‘Jeong Yunho you lucky bastard this account has less than three hundred followers, how did you find this?’

The pictures also say, ‘Hello, this is Kim Hongjoong’s secret thirst trap twitter account and this is Kim Hongjoong’s mouth gaped open with a caption begging for cock, you’re welcome.’

Yunho had always made it a point not to jerk off while thinking about the other members, even though he’s surrounded on all sides by model worthy bodies and model worthy faces. It’s a matter of _principle_. Alright, principle and the fact he’s been on toilet cleaning duty after extra spicy japchae night; some things just cannot be unseen.

Much like the closeup of his hyung’s mouth and tongue begging for someone—anyone—to satisfy his craving.

Well. Nothing for it.

Yunho casts one last distrustful eye at the door to his and San’s shared room before unzipping his jeans. 

**\-------**

Before he can be overrun by guilt for jacking off to his hyung’s face—and it was definitely Hongjoong’s face, he’d recognize that mouth anywhere—Yunho creeps his way into Mingi’s room. He’s asleep in a face mask, curled sideways under a thick blanket and snoring gently. Yunho would feel bad about waking him up any other day but today…

Today he found Kim Hongjoong’s secret twitter. 

Yunho lands with his head on Mingi’s sternum, shaking him until his best friend wakes with a startled cry and a panicked, “Yunho! What’s wrong? What’s happening?” The mask slips off the end of Mingi’s nose to the floor with a soft wet ‘plap’.

“Mingi, I have to show you something,” Yunho shoves his phone under his nose until Mingi finally whines and takes it from him. “Look who I found on twitter.”

Mingi grimaces at the cascade of porn clips. “Dude, gross, I don’t want to look at your porn.” 

“Not that! Mingi, this is Hongjoong-hyung’s twitter! His secret twitter!” Yunho pulls up the latest post, the one about being cock hungry, and opens the picture to save Mingi from the potentially scarring caption. “Look, this is his mouth. Do you think we should say something?”

“How do you know?”

Yunho gapes while Mingi yawns and picks up his sad semi-dried sheet of skincare. “Wh—what do you mean?”

“How do you know that’s hyung’s mouth?” Mingi asks uncertainly. “That could be anyone’s lips and, Yunho, bro, I love you but put that shit away. I _ really _ don’t want to know what gets you off.”

“I—” Yunho feels like maybe he’s started this conversation on the wrong foot. Could Mingi not see this was clearly their dearest leader posting on a public platform about dick? Was he in the Upside Down? Why wouldn’t this asshole believe him? “Because this is hyung’s mouth. Mingi, you believe me right?”

Mingi throws the blankets back over his head, making sure to give Yunho a kick in the side while he's at it. No doubt for waking him up from his nap in the first place. “I believe you need to get laid. This is sad, just go tell hyung you want to bone him and get it out of your system.”

Yunho takes a deep, even breath. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.” Mingi snorts, sound echoing under from beneath the dense cotton. Yunho adds, “And I don’t want to bone Hongjoong.”

“Yeah, okay, keep telling yourself that Mr. I-Can-Pick-His-Mouth-Out-of-a-Lineup.” 

Yunho growls in poorly concealed irritation while Mingi lets out an obnoxiously fake, loud snore.

**\-------**

Yunho leaves Mingi’s room feeling off-footed and weird. He _knows_—in a guilty, confused sort of way—that the person running the account is Hongjoong based solely on the picture of his hyung's mouth. Surely he’s not the only one who’s taken notice of Hongjoong’s lips? Like, objectively, they’re really pretty and the shape is nice and his teeth are really sharp when they bite at the corner of his bottom lip. Faelike, in a way. 

But noticing things about a roommate, about his second favorite hyung, that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to fuck him. Right? 

Right. 

Seonghwa is still out with Wooyoung and San, but the door to his and Hongjoong’s room is conspicuously shut. When he goes to twist the handle, Yunho finds it locked—the only unspoken signal that the person within needs some ‘private time’ undisturbed. 

Yunho bites the inside of cheek just so the sting of it keeps him grounded. He can already feel the heady rush burning in his cheeks imagining what Hongjoong is getting up to in there now that he knows, at least partially, what goes on behind this closed door.

Jongho gives him a look with a lot of judgy eyebrow when they pass in the hallway.

“What?” Yunho frowns at him.

“Nothing,” their maknae pretends to clean his nails on his own shirt. “Just wondering what you were doing being a creeper at hyung’s door.”

“I wasn’t being a creeper,” Yunho falters, “I was just—I was going to ask him a question but the door is locked.”

Jongho offers him an unbelieving, “Uh-huh” before continuing his stroll towards the kitchen. Yunho debates asking him if he knows about the...the twitter account that shall not be named, but Jongho is still sort of young—younger, anyway—and Yunho thinks maybe today is not the day to mentally or emotionally scar the baby.

Yunho makes it back to his room to flop facedown into his sheets that still smell like sweat and a little like jizz from the wad of used tissue in the corner. Whatever, he’ll deal with it before San gets back later.

The locked door conundrum haunts him. What is Hongjoong doing? What if he’s just trying out a new reformation technique on some old clothes? Yunho huffs an irritated, aroused breath when he wonders: is he taking pictures?

Curiosity gets the better of him and Yunho pulls the twitter handle back up. Whoever it may be, maybe-Hongjoong-maybe-not-but-probably-Hongjoong, is taking the opportunity to post pictures of their erect dick. Precum beading in glossy pearls at the tip, barely starting to drip against the soft skin of their navel with a caption that reads, “Send me your favorite teasing vids~”  
  
Yunho hides a whine into his pillow, spent cock making a valiant effort at getting hard again after having already gotten off once in the last fifteen minutes. This is going to be _torture_.

**\-------**

Like a lot of arguments in the dorm this one starts with Yeosang forgetting to sort the _ goddamn _ laundry. Or, well, it’s not necessarily an argument as much as it is Yunho slowly losing the last of his waning willpower not to blab about a certain hyung’s proclivity for sharing photos of his body parts online. 

Their chores are supposed to be divvied up equally amongst the eight of them on a rotating schedule. Last week, Yunho and San shared laundry duty and didn’t manage to somehow forget to sort by whose clothes are whose when they passed the baskets back around. It’s easy and takes three seconds of looking at a shirt’s tag and going ‘hey that’s Yunho’s shirt, let’s put it in his basket and not Hongjoong’s.’

Literally _ three seconds_, Yeosang. 

It’s so fucking easy, so why exactly Yeosang decides to shirk this duty today, when they’re all exhausted from training and Yunho is feeling especially emotionally tender after the big twitter reveal, is anyone’s guess. Yunho swears it’s just Yeosang’s way of trying to increase his blood pressure until Yunho has a stroke so he can steal the lead dancer position.

That morning Yunho is blearily attempting to make a bowl of cereal while also enjoying the last dregs of sleep. He’s swaying to and fro, pouring sugary goodness from a box on every second long blink, when Hongjoong stumbles through the kitchen. 

Yunho actually has his back turned away, only knows it’s his smaller hyung by the zombified, “Please tell me there’s coffee,” croaked at him from behind.

“I just put some on, it’s going to be a minute.” Yunho hides a yawn with his hand, mostly to save his hyung from atrocious morning breath because he is a kind and caring dongsaeng. Hongjoong whines something unidentifiable and shoves his head into the space between Yunho’s shoulder blades. 

Hongjoong groans out a long drawn out, “Caffeine” before slumping most of his weight against Yunho’s back. Hongjoong lets out a fake snore. At this angle, Yunho can’t really reach his back and ends up smacking his hyung’s hip while Hongjoong snickers. Of course, touching Hongjoong’s hip reminds Yunho that, hey, just two days ago that hip was featured in a filthy twitter thread about being held down and asking for dom vids.

Yunho snatches his hand away as if it’s been burned. If Hongjoong notices, he doesn’t say anything in favor of adjusting his head against his back and winding his arms around Yunho’s waist.

He attempts a steadying breath while his mind races with Forbidden Knowledge. “Sleep okay?”

“Mmm,” Hongjoong hums. “Not really. Seonghwa kept me up whining about not being invited to be in the WooSan couple shenanigans again, though I don’t know what he expects _ me _ to do about it.”

“He’s a grown ass man, he can figure it out himself.” The milk is still in the fridge. Yunho considers trying to waddle the both of them to get it and back and gives up on the idea almost immediately in favor of stroking a finger over Hongjoong’s knuckles held tight against his navel. “You’re being extra clingy today,” he observes.

“I’m clingy everyday,” Hongjoong grumbles, nuzzling into Yunho’s spine. “It’s just none of you let me in on the snugglefests.”

“You bit Wooyoung the last time he tried to get close during movie night,” Yunho points out. Hongjoong huffs, which isn’t really an answer, so Yunho continues, “On the nose, hyung.”

“He startled me,” Hongjoong says determinedly. 

“So you bit him?” Yunho starts giggling, early morning hysteria settling in. “Why are you so bitey? Those teeth are weapons.”

“These teeth are the bread and butter of our group. Anyone should be so lucky for me to put them to use.” Hongjoong sniffs in mock offense. “And it was Wooyoung’s fault anyway, I was yawning and he decided to try and be cute by getting too close to my face.”

Yunho doesn’t think that’s an excuse to go biting people on the nose, but what does he know. The coffee pot makes its triumphant ding of mission complete, Hongjoong crows and distentagles himself from Yunho’s waist to chant an obnoxious, “coffee, coffee, coffee,” on repeat like a deranged caffeine gremlin.

Strangely, Yunho feels a little bereft now that he doesn’t have his hyung warming his back. He shakes the feeling off since now he can finally turn to the fridge for his much needed milk and—

“Hyung,” Yunho wheezes, “Is that my shirt?”

Hongjoong raises his brows over the brim of the cup, gulps, and looks down to check his attire. “Oh. Huh, I think it is. I just grabbed the first thing in my basket, I guess Yeosang forgot to sort things out again.” Hongjoong sighs. “Sorry, Yunho. I’ll get your shirt back to you after it gets washed again.”

“You could give it back to me now,” Yunho mutters. Something hot squirms in his stomach the longer he watches Hongjoong shift from foot to foot and the hemline swishing against his thighs. It reminds him of a photo Hongjoong had posted months ago, because Yunho decided to scroll through all seven hundred-something posts for more blackmail fodder, and it makes embarrassment go crawling up the length of his spine. 

Hongjoong snorts. “Nice try but I’m not taking my shirt off for you, pervert.”

“Pervert!” Yunho slams the milk back against the counter. “I’m not the one who—”

He’s saved from making a monumental mistake—Hongjoong’s eyebrows both risen sky high on his forehead in surprise—by Yeosang yawning his way into the kitchen for his breakfast smoothie. 

“Yeosang, just the dongsaeng I wanted to see,” Hongjoong grabs him by the collar of his shirt. “Mind telling me why I had Yunho’s clothes in my basket this morning?”

Yeosang gives him one long, disinterested blink. “Dunno, did you steal it from his closet?”

“No,” Hongjoong drawls. “Guess again.”

“You forgot to give it back to him after practice,” Yeosang tries. Yunho bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the forlorn expression directed at their blender. 

“So close, but not quite.” Hongjoong offers up a thin lipped smile. “Who was on laundry duty last?”

“Wooyoung.”

“And?”

“And me. But Wooyoung was supposed to be in charge of sorting this time.”

Hongjoong takes another long sip of his coffee. “Guess who’s going to have laundry duty again this week?”

“Aw!” Yeosang wilts in Hongjoong’s grip. “It was a tiny mistake!”

“It’s the same mistake you two make every time the wheel lands in your favor.” Yunho debates making a bowl of popcorn while he’s watching the back and forth. “Double laundry for the both of you, plus whatever other chore you land on this week.”

“Hyung!”

Hongjoong ignores his protests, walking off with a wave of one hand over his shoulder and his steaming cup of bitter coffee in the other. Yunho’s shirt swishes barely over the curve of his ass.

Yeosang glares at him when Hongjoong is finally out of sight. “This is your fault.”

“I’m not the one incapable of reading shirt labels.” Yunho tells him and takes his bowl of now soggy cereal to eat in the living room.

**\-------**

Hongjoong doesn’t immediately return the shirt.

Yunho knows he still has it because three days later when Seonghwa is out of the building again, the suspect twitter gets updated with a shot of the person’s—Hongjoong, it’s Hongjoong, goddammit, and that’s still fucking weird—erection tenting the fabric of a too long top. The second update minutes later shows them gripping the length through the shirt while a bead of precum darkens the cotton covered tip.

Hidden in the bathroom, Yunho breathes raggedly into a hand cupped over his mouth to keep his noise down while the other whips over his own painful erection. Why Hongjoong posting these things gets him so riled up, Yunho doesn’t know. Maybe just the fact he's the only one who has found out, Yunho supposes, the secrecy activating some kind of hidden voyeuristic kink he didn't know he had.

The twitter keeps updating.

Yunho finishes over his knuckles with a muffled grunt at the last picture: cum staining the oversized shirt he’d bought last winter and the tips of fingers he sees everyday delicately touching the worst of the mess.

**\-------**

Against his better judgement and the very real looming threat of chafing, Yunho can’t stop looking at the account. 

It’s in the back of his mind during practice, at dinner, staring at the television screen when he’s attempting to destroy Mingi at Mario Kart. Part of him is aware the sudden obsession is unhealthy and daydreaming about his hyung is, like, peak stupidity, but it’s like he’s taken a bite out of the forbidden apple and the knowledge is just...there. Waiting.

Taunting him.

His phone has to constantly be on a charger because it’s being put to so much use lately. Hell, Yunho had even gone so far as to create a throwaway account on twitter so he could follow Hongjoong under the guise of some anonymous jack-off with a porn addiction. 

Princess Peach goes careening off the side of Rainbow Road as Mingi crows in victory. “Fucking finally! Today is going to be a good day!”

Yunho scowls down at his controller as if it’s betrayed him. “Whatever, you just got lucky because I’m so distracted.” 

Mingi pauses in his victory lap around the room to stare at him. “Distracted? Why?” Yunho fiddles with the menu options instead of answering. Mingi’s excited expression curdles into one of abject disgust. “Is this about the twitter porn? Dude, seriously, just go up to Hongjoong and tell him—”

“Tell me what?” 

Before Mingi can answer, Yunho drags him down to the floor so he can clamp an arm over Mingi’s big fucking mouth. “Nothing! Nothing at all.”

Hongjoong eyes the pair of them warily, adjusting a thick scarf around his neck and a beanie over his ears. “Okay,” he draws out.

“Mingi was trying to make me do something gross for losing to him at Mario Kart,” Yunho grins back and flexes his arm tighter around Mingi’s head to keep him from saying anything incriminating. “Don’t mind us.”

“That’s a first. I thought you always won at Mario Kart?” Yunho shrugs. Mingi yells something into Yunho’s armpit but is subsequently ignored on all fronts. “Well, whatever, I’m going out to buy snacks, you guys want anything while I’m gone? San already put in a request for chips, so…”

“We’re good.” Yunho grins, a rictus smile he knows looks unhinged. “Totally fine. Thank you anyway, hyung-ah.”

Hongjoong gives them both another squinty-eyed look of suspicion before he leaves. Once the chime for the front door sounds, Yunho breathes a sigh of relief and releases his best friend from the armpit torture dungeon.

Mingi gulps a dramatic gasp of air once freed. “What the fuck, Yunho, maybe _ I _ wanted free snacks!”

“No, you wanted to out me for looking at—” Yunho falters. “_You know_.”

Mingi sighs while his eyes roll heavenward. “No one cares about your porn. _ I _ don’t care about your porn. What I _ do _ care about is you thinking about hyung’s mouth so much you’re projecting it onto some rando online.” Mingi grasps each of Yunho’s shoulders under his enormous palms and, with an air of someone trying to pull another from the brink, tells him, “For the love of god just tell him you want to fuck so we can play Mario Kart in peace again.”

Yunho glares back and shakes himself out of Mingi’s grip. “I don’t want to have sex with Hongjoong.” His best friend snorts. “I don’t! I just—you know—it’s weird that he’s—and, anyway, he’s not even _ that _ hot, so why would I?”

“Our fans would care to disagree,” Mingi picks his discarded controller back up. “Yunho, buddy, denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, you know.”

“Yeah, because it’s in Sudan, too.” Yunho answers primly before absolutely trashing Mingi on Toad’s Turnpike with Yoshi at the wheel.

**\-------**

Cold autumn turns into even colder winter and Hongjoong starts waxing poetic about the abdomens of idols no longer on display due to the inclement weather. On his twitter. Which Yunho has _ still _ not found the willpower to stop checking.

Yunho’s stomach starts doing a weird thing now, too. Like last night Hongjoong posted pictures from the bathroom—knees peeking above the sudsy waters of a bubble bath—with requests for fancams of three different idols he was, quote, ‘obsessed with imagining holding him down’ and Yunho’s gut had twisted in on itself in hateful little spirals. 

He’s not _ jealous_, despite anything Mingi suggests. He’s just...weirded out, yeah. Hongjoong was supposed to be like this sexless older brother type person and here he is being a fucking twitter thot and Yunho’s brain can’t meld the two together. Especially when Hongjoong starts in with the pictures of his tiny goddamn hands barely curling around the base of his dick and—  
  
The chafing, Yunho bemoans quietly in his mind—San asleep in his bunk above him—while his dick rears angry and red and throbbing because of his twitter feed. No one warned him about the _ chafing_.

**\-------**

The twitter obsession doesn’t get any better after their latest comeback. Horrifyingly enough, he spaces out on camera a few times when they’re doing impromptu vlives, only managing to pull himself back in the moment by the sound of Wooyoung screeching about something or San’s high-pitched laughter at Wooyoung getting smothered by someone else. 

Actually, it gets worse because Hongjoong now has a mullet Yunho could conceivably thread his fingers through and yank him around by, and the visual is enough to make Yunho want to bash his forehead into the nearest flat surface. 

It’s been _ months _ and Yunho can’t stop _ looking_.

San has started to shoot him concerned looks at dinner when Yunho passes him the soy instead of the salt, too distracted by Hongjoong’s tongue poking out to lick the sauce from his lips. Yeosang and Jongho shoot him strange looks after Yunho manages to stumble in the middle of his favorite choreo because Hongjoong decided to be funny and hip thrust out of nowhere, and Seonghwa makes him sit down for twenty minutes in case it’s a bad case of heat induced weakness.

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Yunho says, water bottle held to his neck to appease their eldest member. “I was just thinking too hard about something and tripped, that’s all.”

In the background, Mingi smothers laughter beneath the collar of his shirt. Yunho debates the merits of throwing the bottle at his head just to hear that satisfying ‘thunk’ when it makes a connection, but the cool against his sweaty neck is actually kind of nice. Seonghwa is thin lipped and worried standing over him with his arms crossed. “You never trip.”

“We all trip,” Yunho tells him seriously. “Like, everyday. We’re the clumsiest idol group in the company.”

Jongho flops to his back beside the both of them. “We’re the _ only _ idol group in the company, idiot.”

“Yunho, just smile and nod and do what he says, Seonghwa is in mom mode. There’s no escape,” Hongjoong calls from the other side of the room. Even from this distance Yunho can just make out the beads of sweat running down Hongjoong’s neck and his mouth goes suddenly dry, tongue stuffed with cotton.

Yunho may possibly want to fuck Hongjoong. Just once. Just to get it out of his system like Mingi suggested.

“Don’t call me mom.” Seonghwa complains, but he’s unscrewing an extra water bottle and handing it to Yunho to drink, so.

Hongjoong flutters his lashes with exaggerated kissing sounds. “What would you rather I call you? Wife?”

Seonghwa growls something distinctly unpleasant causing Hongjoong to snicker before booking it out of the practice room doors. Seonghwa is hot on his heels and their bickering echos down the hallway over the sound of the group's laughter.  
  
Water turns to bitter poison in his mouth and the hateful little curls of _ something _ come back full force in Yunho’s stomach.

**\-------**

Finally deciding that, yes, he probably _ would _ like to take Hongjoong to bone town for a quick wham, bam, thank you ma’am, Yunho scrolls back to the very beginning posts for research purposes. What did Hongjoong fantasize about the most? What exactly was he looking for in a partner and how could Yunho start subtly floating the idea that, hey, he could maybe be a willing participant?

There’s a lot of material to sift through. A lot. 

It’s late, but Yunho is pretty sure San is still awake and texting Wooyoung or Seonghwa two rooms away. “Hey, San?”

There’s a sigh like a gust of wind. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Yunho purses his lips at one of the beginning tweets, a picture of a neck extended and straining to show off the veins. “Would you say I’m muscular?”

“Uh,” San pauses above him. “Yeah, I guess so. Why? Are you being called a twink again?”

“Wait—again? Who said I was a twink?” There’s a rustling movement followed by the unmistakable sound of San trying to stop himself from laughing too hard by biting a pillow. Yunho kicks the underside of the bunk in retaliation. “Asshole.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” San giggles and waves a hand over the side rail in a poor attempt at conciliatory spirit fingers. “What’s brought this on?”

‘I’m trying to come up with a plan of seduction for our miniature hyung and he’s apparently into muscles,’ is the answer Yunho swallows back. “Just wondering, no reason.”

San hums and goes back to texting, the slow tip tap in a soothing rhythm. 

Yunho continues his search and pretends his erection isn’t a completely distracting throb in his groin. ‘Hold me down’, one caption reads. ‘Choke me,’ under another and, ‘I want to suck on your fingers’ beneath the latest.

Yunho glances from his phone to his hands in consideration. “Hey, San?”

San growls an expletive above him before leaning over to glare down over the edge of the bunk. “What now?”

“Do you think my hands are ‘daddy’ material?” Silence. Yunho accepts the pillow San slams into his face a moment later with a pout and a muffled, “You could have just said _ no_.” 

**\-------**

Two days, six hours, and one absolutely demolished box of Kleenex later, Yunho has a Plan™. It’s a stupid fucking plan, but Yunho is barely twenty something, and horny, so he feels like he’s entitled to some well meaning idiocy in the quest to get laid.

The plan goes like this: he’s going to start dropping hints.

Not big ones, nothing that would potentially scare Hongjoong away, but enough that he could maybe slowly hint to his hyung that he knows about the twitter handle. Outright saying, “Hey, I saw your dick online, can we maybe put it to use together” seems extra sleazy, so Yunho opts instead to try and inch his way under Hongjoong’s skin. Like trying to befriend a feral cat without scaring it off—only the cat is Hongjoong and the friendship is his raging dicklust.

The first attempts go completely over Hongjoong’s head. At breakfast, Yunho makes a comment about a new ring Hongjoong has on, one that featured prominently in a post from the night before. Hongjoong smiles, a little baffled since Yunho doesn’t normally really say anything about his jewelry, before going back to guzzling caffeine like it’s going out of production.

Before a meeting: a throwaway compliment about a new polish color on his nails. Hongjoong had compared it to the color of another man’s mouth—some Australian model or something, Yunho wasn’t paying attention and definitely didn’t hate google the name for thirty minutes. 

At practice, Yunho makes a grab for Hongjoong’s hips, ostensibly to move him into the correct position but in reality to showcase just how far around his fingers could reach. Hongjoong is frozen in his grasp and Yunho smirks. Being held down or held around the hips featured prominently on his twitter. 

“Hyung, you’ve got to put your weight on your right leg for the swivel or else it looks weird.” Yunho rasps into his ear, watching the pair of them through hooded lids in the wall length mirror.

“Uh—r-right, yeah, got it,” Hongjoong audibly swallows before shifting away. 

“You sure? I can _ hold _ onto you to guide you for the next sequence if you want.” Yunho emphasizes, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the smirk from his mouth when Hongjoong’s face flushes and his eyes visibly dilate.

“I—Let’s take a fifteen minute break,” Hongjoong claps his hands to get the attention of the room, “Fifteen minutes and then we’re back at it!”

Hongjoong waits only long enough to hear a handful of agreeing groans before speedwalking from the room. Yunho wonders if he’s got a certain...problem to take care of and debates following if not for Mingi and Jongho pulling him into a Monsta X dance-off.

Seonghwa corners him after practice. 

“What are you doing, Yunho.” He says, phrased like a question but obviously a demand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hyung,” Yunho wipes his face with a damp towel, eyes tracking Hongjoong’s stretching in the background. “We’re just practicing.”

Seonghwa’s eyes are narrowed and flinty. “If you’re just trying to mess with Hongjoong—”

“Hyung,” Yunho interrupts, “I was just trying to help keep him from pulling his hips out of alignment. That move is _ hard_, worse if your body goes one way and your legs another.”

Seonghwa has always been his favorite hyung. Hongjoong is like the weird uncle twice removed from the family they all just sort of—put up with isn’t quite right, but maybe the most apt. Not for the first time, Yunho wonders if Seonghwa has some claim to their leader he doesn’t know about. It would make sense, what with their shared space in the dorm and the easy back and forth of their teasing.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to say something when Wooyoung yells out, “Who wants to be in the WooSan and Seonghwa-hyung vlive later?”

“WooSanHwa,” Seonghwa immediately corrects instead, desperate whine in his voice already. 

“No,” yelled in tandem across the room. Seonghwa stomps his foot like a toddler before beelining towards the troublemakers to hang around their necks like a shitty octopus.

“Why don’t you two love me,” Seonghwa sobs into San’s shoulder. “I do so much for you guys and this is the thanks I get.”

Jongho walks by with a muttered, “If they start having threeways in the dorm, I’m fucking out of here.”

Hongjoong’s bright, amused laughter leaves Yunho feeling warm for the majority of the frigid walk home.

**\-------**

Every single hint Yunho tries to drop goes completely and utterly over Hongjoong’s stubbornly oblivious head. It’s frustrating as fuck, and Yunho would tell him as much if he weren’t trying so hard to play the gentleman’s game of show and not tell. 

The glare he sends to his phone backstage just before a fansign is venomous enough that even Wooyoung nudges him with a quiet, “What did it do to you?”

“Nothing,” Yunho pockets his phone with a frown. _ Which is exactly the problem_, Yunho keeps hidden behind clenched tight teeth.

Wooyoung offers him another sideways searching sort of expression before handing him a chocolate bar and a condescending, “Buck up, buckaroo.” 

On twitter, Hongjoong had compared the lip color the stylists were starting to gloss his mouth with to those of the nipple color of some foreign rugby player that kept a tight upload schedule on instagram. Yunho didn’t see the appeal, but maybe…

His hyung wanders by, tugging at his fingers in the nervous frenetic energy he can never quite handle just before a public appearance, and Yunho decides—fuck exactly all of this. 

“Hyung,” Yunho breathes, catching the hem of Hongjoong’s fluffy sweater and halting his progress in making a trench in the floor. “About that lip color—”

“Lip color?” Hongjoong cocks his head curiously.

“It reminds me of something,” Yunho mimes thinking hard, hand to his chin in faux contemplation before slapping a fist down into an open palm. “Ah! You know that rugby match we all rewatched the other day? Haskell!” He waves vaguely at his own chest. “It reminds me of his nipples,” he fakes a laugh, “Strange, right?”

Hongjoong goes sheet white, then bright red, and he squeaks, “Absolutely bananas, excuse me,” and takes off in the direction of the bathrooms.

His hyung shoots him mildly distressed glances all through the fansign. Yunho basks in the smugness of a job well done and ignores him in favor of clipping as many fanmade flowers to his hair as possible.

Unfortunately, instead of confronting him so they could maybe talk about the fact Hongjoong has a secret thirst twitter, his hyung goes to ground by locking down his account and acting squirrely for a few days. The account goes silent for the first time in months.

Yunho pouts. 

So much for that idea.

**\-------**

Yunho, having decided overnight to try and back off from being too overt, immediately backtracks the idea when Hongjoong finally updates his twitter account showing off a pair of earrings dangling against the mole on his neck. Yunho stares at it and wonders when exactly he started finding skin blemishes sexy. Today? Last week? That first scroll through of Hongjoong’s twitter when he had his chin raised defiantly out of frame and neck mole proudly on display?

All of the above, probably.

Hongjoong is whistling to himself over a bowl of cereal that morning, adorable sweaterpaws on display as he bounces from foot to foot. The earrings swish against his shoulders.

No one else is around.

Yunho pretends to yawn and leans his chest against Hongjoong’s back, hooking his chin over Hongjoong’s shoulder while his hyung stiffens. “Morning, hyung-ah.”

“Good morning,” Hongjoong hedges. He doesn’t try to shuffle out of Yunho’s physical orbit so he chalks that up as a check mark in the ‘maybe not totally repulsed by Yunho's interest' column. Maybe. Fingers crossed, anyway. “How, uh, how’d you sleep?”

Yunho squishes their cheeks together and tickles his fingers against Hongjoong’s ribs to get him to unclench. “Fine. I like your earrings.”

“My—” Hongjoong inhales sharply before touching his ears as if he’s forgotten the jewelry is still there. “Oh. Right. Thank you, they’re new.” 

They stay pressed together. Yunho is too warm to move and Hongjoong doesn’t really seem to mind, so why not. He even offers Yunho bites of his cereal every other spoonful until the bowl is clean and Hongjoong makes noises like he’s about to wash his dishes.

Yunho hugs him tight, once, before releasing him to his squeaky rubber gloved fate. “You should take a selca with them. They’d look really pretty by your neck.”

Yunho goes off in search of Mingi or maybe Jongho to torture, totally missing the calculating look Hongjoong gives his back.

**\-------**

For some reason, Hongjoong has really kicked up the thirst tweeting ever since that cereal sharing morning—not that Yunho or his dick are complaining. Well his dick might re: chafing, but for the most part Yunho is super happy with this turn of events because that means either Hongjoong has caught on and doesn’t care, or he does care and wants to show off anyway.

It’s what he hopes anyway whining around his fingers shoved into his own mouth in the shared shower, taking an extra five minutes to get off so he can look at Hongjoong without combusting. 

Today the captions were _ filthy _ and the pictures were marginally _ worse_. Hongjoong had decided to drip lube over his mouth so the strings of it resembled the stretch of fresh cum rolling over his skin. Yunho had taken one look before jumping out of bed—San still snoring lightly above him—to stand under the coldest blast of water he could handle in the shower. 

When that didn’t work, because _ holy fuck Hongjoong_, Yunho turned it back to something warm and fucked into the tight ring of his hand until he made a mess of his trembling fingers.

Jesus, _ jesus_, but Yunho wants to paint that mouth with his own cum so bad his teeth ache.

Yunho finds Hongjoong waiting on the other side of the door, arms crossed with a towel slung over his shoulder scrolling through the news on Naver. Feeling a little vindictive, Yunho leans close to whisper, “You left a little something on your chin.”

Hongjoong wheezes something shockingly high pitched in response. Yunho doesn’t stick around to find out what because he’s so tired from the early morning jerk off session, lumbers into his room to faceplant into his bed clad in only underwear and his head still wet.

**\-------**

They don’t talk. They don’t really interact much at all for the entirety of the day even though group practice and a stint in the recording studio. Yeosang and Wooyoung both ask him what he did to make Hongjoong avoid him so obviously, but Yunho can only shrug in response. Not like he can say he kind of implied there was lube still on Hongjoong’s mouth that morning, god. 

“Did you finally say something to hyung?” Mingi whispers in the corner furthest away from where Hongjoong is being lectured by Seonghwa about who knows what. “Is that why he’s being so weird?”

“I...sort of.” Yunho chews his bottom lip. “Probably could have worded it better.”

Mingi makes sympathetic noises in his throat before handing him a fresh towel. “Give him some time, I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Yunho considers for about two seconds that he’s maybe taken the teasing too far until later that night when he sees the latest update. 

Hongjoong has apparently decided enough is enough by showing off an angle of his legs clenched tight around a pillow alongside a picture of ‘an idol I admire a lot, god if he would just let me wrap my legs around him’.

Yunho nearly swallows his tongue.

The idol is _ him_. It’s a photo taken from a fancam of their Light performance where Yunho had stuck his tongue out in excitement for hitting his high note and the filter makes his skin nearly sparkle. Hongjoong continues his thread, of course he does, by describing in explicit detail the way he would get Yunho out of his outfit using only his _ teeth_.

“What the fuck,” Yunho whispers harshly in his bunk.

San grumbles a tired, “Yunho? You okay?”

“Fine, everything’s fine,” Yunho placates, voice thin and reedy from the shock. Everything is decidedly _ not fine_, their hyung is a goddamn demon. “Go back to sleep, San-ie.”

Update after update after update scroll down his timeline until Hongjoong posts a final picture—cum dripping through his fingers over the newest collection of rings—and Yunho breathes hard through his nose, slipping his own hand down and down until he makes a ruinous mess of his own hands to match.

He can’t look Hongjoong in the eye the next morning when his hyung, the very model of angelic innocence, asks him, “Have a good night there, Yunho?”

**\-------**

The torture continues daily over the course of the next two weeks.

Two fucking whole ass weeks, wherein Yunho spends an inordinate amount of time getting intimately acquianted with his own dick. His only real consolation is the fact he knows Hongjoong is doing about the same.

It’s starting to drive him a little insane if Yunho is honest. More insane. Every single interaction outside of twitter, every accidental brush of fingertips passing condiments around at dinner or bumping into one another at practice, has Yunho so jumpy he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He knows what he’d do to _ Hongjoong _ given half the chance, but otherwise the want and the lust and arousal all burn in his veins with nowhere to go.

Two weeks.

_ Two weeks _ of Hongjoong’s fantasies being blasted all over his twitter and still the man won’t do anything about it. Yunho thought he’d at least be confronted for finding the account and maybe they’d talk about it, but Hongjoong continues to ignore the elephant in the room in favor of telling the world at large just how happily he’d swallow around Yunho’s fingers.

“I bet he’d be so sweet,” Hongjoong tells twitter, “He looks like the type that would choke me and then cry about it afterwards.”

Which is...weird to be fantasized about so openly, especially when Yunho is still on the fence on whether he actually _ likes _ Hongjoong. Aroused by, sure; friends with, definitely; would he actually go on a date with him...still unclear.

But Hongjoong’s twitter doesn’t sigh dreamily about romantic coffee shop dates or being treated to nice things or holding hands beyond the bedroom, so maybe that’s alright. By the beginning of week three, Yunho decides he doesn’t much care either way because he’s going to die anyway. He’s going to become a shriveled husk of his former self because their leader wants him to perish.

Week four—closing in fast on a month of metaphorically having his cock teased—Seonghwa invites everyone to his grandparents farm for a weekend getaway slash family bonding experience. Yunho begs out of it by making some excuse about going home to see his brother and Hongjoong just straight up says, “I’d rather work on music while it’s quiet.”

Saturday morning of week four, Yunho and Hongjoong are left alone in the dorm.

By noon Yunho has reorganized his video game collection twice, sabotaged San’s pillow with a pair of San’s dirty underwear he found shoved underneath their bunk, and jerked off to take the edge off. An hour later, his phone dings. Expecting a whining text from Mingi or San, Yunho finds an alert from twitter that one of the accounts he follows (the _ only _ account he follows) has just posted an update.

It’s a picture of collarbones misted over with a faint sheen of sweat and a caption that reads: “Make a move.”

Yunho stares at it. He stares at it so long his phone screen fades back to black. That was...that was a pretty blatant invitation, right? He’s not just imagining things this time.

The hyungline door is unlocked but Yunho knocks anyway until Hongjoong answers. He’s a vision in only a long sleeved shirt with his cheeks flushed red, breathing fast and shallow the longer they stare at each other in the doorway.

“Hyung,” Yunho starts, but it comes out shitty and garbled.

Hongjoong only smiles back and rests his cheek against the doorframe. “Yunho,” he mocks.

“Fuck off,” Yunho hisses back. “I know you know that I know about the twitter thing.” Hongjoong hums back without admission clearly amused. “Hyung, please—”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Hongjoong interrupts. His eyes are pitch dark and hungry but his face remains a slack neutral.

“I,” Yunho pauses to think. It doesn’t really _ help _ considering his brain is mostly mush from four weeks of being emotionally edged so brutally. Four weeks and longer of watching his hyung beg for praise and for hands on his skin, for some kind of relief that Yunho knows they don’t have the time for him to find. He takes a step forward to crowd Hongjoong further into the woodwork. 

“I want to tell you how gorgeous you are,” Yunho finally husks and his hyung sucks in a sharp lungful of air. “I want to put my hand around your neck and make you beg for air. I want—”

Hongjoong cuts him off with his mouth.

He tastes like warmth and a little like mouthwash and lot like faux-strawberries. Yunho wonders in a vague, hazy sort of way if Hongjoong has been taking pictures of his mouth covered in lube again. Except Hongjoong licks over the seam of his mouth and Yunho can’t really find the energy to think of anything at all.

Yunho whines into the kiss and drags Hongjoong in close by his shirt until they both go stumbling towards the center of the room.

Hongjoong is the first to break away with a gasp. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Yeah?” Yunho smirks as he works his fingers up and under the hemline of Hongjoong’s shirt to feel the muscles of his stomach clench.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong sighs, leans back in for another open mouthed kiss. “Do you want to—”

Without waiting for the rest of the question, Yunho immediately answers, “Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” Hongjoong laughs. It’s throaty and quiet and shoots heat straight down Yunho’s spine to pool in burning liquid fire in his groin. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Yunho bites against the mole on Hongjoong’s neck like he’s dreamed of for what feels like a small lifetime. Hongjoong groans in his ear, fingers spasming against his shirtsleeves. “I _ want_.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong grunts when Yunho nips higher on his neck. “God—just—_come here_.”

Hongjoong ends up leading them towards his bunk, maneuvering them so Yunho is sitting against the edge while Hongjoong drops to his knees. “Been thinking about this,” Hongjoong tells him as he pants over the twitching head of Yunho’s cock hidden beneath his sweats. “Thought about what you’d taste like. How far down I could take you without choking.”

Yunho rakes a hand through Hongjoong’s fringe barely resisting the urge to shift his hips upward into his face for some kind of friction. “You don’t have to imagine it anymore.” Hongjoong mouths over the head of his dick and Yunho can feel the tip of his tongue through the cotton layers between them. “Hyung, hyung, you can—it’s fine.”

No late night fantasy will ever compare to the actual sight and feel of his hyung—of Hongjoong—bruising his knees on their dorm floor, eagerly sucking his dick like it’s his job and someone is handing out pink slips. Yunho hides his moans behind his knuckles, tears beading at the corners of his eyes at the pleasure of that hot slick mouth surrounding him and from the way Hongjoong moans deep in his throat with every bob of his head.

**\-------**

Yunho wakes up starfished out in Hongjoong’s bed. He has no idea how much time has passed but, considering his limbs are still sort of tingly and his mouth still kind of aches from putting it to enthusiastic use, it can’t have been _too_ long. Either way, satisfaction thrums all the way down to his toes and Yunho is finally, _ finally _ at peace.

Satiated.

Hongjoong comes back from his shower with his hair still dripping and ends up straddling Yunho’s waist in nothing but a towel and a smile. It’s good. Great. Totally awesome.

“How are you even moving?” Yunho wonders up at him before reaching up to scratch his nails over the peaked nubs of Hongjoong’s nipples. 

“I’ve had practice,” Hongjoong whimpers, back arched and ass resting just so on Yunho’s spent dick that he thinks he could be persuaded fairly easily into a round three. 

“Practice?” The implication makes something in Yunho’s stomach flip, an unnerving sensation he doesn’t know what to name. “With who?”

“More like with _ what_,” Hongjoong snorts. Yunho has to grab his hips when he starts swiveling them in tantalizingly slow circles, ass completely bare now and round three is starting to feel like a sure thing. “I managed to sneak a vibrator in a while back.”

Yunho is blindsided by the visual and the speed with which his dick hardens almost gives him a head rush. “Holy shit, that’s really hot.”

“Mmm,” Hongjoong groans above him, now shifting back and forth to feel Yunho’s dick rubbing against the crack of his ass. Yunho decides to be nice and wraps a palm around Hongjoong to give him something to fuck into. “Have you told anyone? About my twitter account?”

Yunho thinks back to that first day showing it off to Mingi and his best friend’s dismissive attitude. “No.”

Hongjoong rewards him with a hand covered in lube, shockingly cold but warming by the second, reaching back to slick his length in slow, seemingly endless pulls. “Good. Don’t. This is just between you and me.”

Yunho can’t keep his hips still and starts fucking upwards against Hongjoong’s ass. It’s cruel, so cruel to be so close to where he wants and yet they can’t—they _ shouldn’t_—

Hongjoong apparently doesn’t harbor the same sentiments. Yunho’s cockhead catches on the rim of his hole, gaped from Yunho’s fingers earlier when they were feeling exploratory and post-orgasm stupid, and Hongjoong shifts back so the tip dips in just a little more. 

Yunho grabs his hips to keep Hongjoong still, muscles shaking with the effort of not shoving into the tight heat so, so, so close. “Hyung, no, don’t we need...stuff? Like, a condom?” 

“Aw, Yunho, baby,” Hongjoong coos and wriggles hard enough that Yunho loses his grip on his hips, sinking down until the head of Yunho’s dick pops in just passed the rim. “It’s alright, I promise I trust you.”

“Fuck,” Yunho swears wetly. He pulls Hongjoong down to bite at his mouth, to lick into the part of his hyung that started this mess in the first place. He wants to put bruises along Hongjoong’s bottom lip in the shape of his teeth. “Moving a little fast aren’t you, hyung?” 

Hongjoong’s answer is an affected moan burbled near his ear as he slides down further. “If you don’t want to, then pull out.” Though he bottoms out literally a second later, Yunho doesn’t think it’s very fair to expect him to make any kind of decision when his brain is pretty much offline and working on less than stellar generator power.

**\-------**

It’s a good thing the rest of the group is making an extended stay of it, because Yunho and Hongjoong, now unleashed from subtweet hell, have christened nearly every surface in the dorm. The shower is first. Then the living room couch, followed closely by the living room coffee table where Yunho found he could be bent almost in half without his spine screaming.

He feels a little bad about the dining table because they all eat there, like, every night. Except Hongjoong made that terrible “Guess what’s for dinner?” pun and Yunho had to get him to take it back _ somehow_.

It ends with his tongue roving over the abused rim of Hongjoong’s hole in soothing stripes while his hyung bit his own hand to stifle the noises trying to crawl out of his throat. Yunho replaces it with his own fingers, a crowd favorite he’s found, and Hongjoong sucks them down until he’s groaning loud around four fingers and getting cum in Yunho’s hair.

The shower has a final hurrah afterwards.

They’re sprawled out in the middle of the living room, fully clothed for the first time in what feels like days. Hongjoong has dragged out a pile of winter weight blankets and several pillows to create a kind of casual lounge on the floor. A movie plays on the dorm television, some hyper American action flick, and Hongjoong’s head is resting against his shoulder.

Yunho plays with a lock of hair. “The others are going to be back tomorrow morning.” Hongjoong hums and slings a leg over to tangle between Yunho’s own. “We should probably clean this up.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Hongjoong yawns shifting closer. Yunho pulls him in so they’re flush together because who doesn’t love a good cuddle. “They’re not gonna care.”

Seonghwa will probably care about his favorite blanket being dirtied by the living room floor, but if Hongjoong isn’t worried about it then he’s not going to be either. He’s the leader slash responsible adult between the two of them so Yunho, at least, has an out.

**\-------**

(Yunho finds out later—so much later—Hongjoong wasn’t talking about the pile of bedding.)

**\------- **

No one says anything about catching the two of them snoring in the middle of a sad lump of twisted blankets. Mingi makes an offhand comment about having a slumber party but otherwise it’s waved off and Seonghwa tells them Hongjoong is on blanket washing duty for the next two days.

Yunho isn’t sure what he expected, but everything goes back to business as usual. Well, almost.

Hongjoong will sometimes catch him in an empty hallway or pull him into a hidden corner to land a sweet kiss to his mouth. Yunho goes with it, because it’s nice, and despite what he implied to Mingi however long ago, Hongjoong _ is _ attractive. 

There are worse people to be kissing.

For now, Yunho just closes his eyes and kisses back.

**\------- **

The twitter posts ramp back up just as their schedule gets packed with fansigns and show appearances and celebratory dance offs to participate in. Yunho keeps the alerts turned on since for every vague caption of, ‘I’ve had a taste and I want more’, there’s Hongjoong shoving him down into his suspiciously empty bunk to suck Yunho down until he cries. Until they _ both _ cry.

Sometimes Hongjoong will send him an invitation to visit while Seonghwa is taking a long shower and they fuck quick and desperate to the side of the doorway, noises held back by his fingers in Hongjoong’s mouth or his teeth biting stinging marks in Hongjoong’s neck—right over the mole like Hongjoong deserves.

The sneaking around is fun. Not to mention it's surprisingly easy to fuck and run even when they have schedules to keep.

Yunho sighs happily under the sound of San’s quiet snoring.

It’s so awesome Hongjoong isn’t the clingy type.

**\------- **

San corners him three weeks later after he begs off from a shared vlive for the nth time. “Okay, what is going on with you? And don’t lie because I will know and I will drag the truth out of you anyway.”

“Nothing’s going on with me,” Yunho whines. He just wants to have some free time to play a video game now that a lot of time gets spent in the hyungline room. “I just don’t feel like going live tonight, that’s it.”

San purses his mouth at him. “So it has nothing to do with whatever you and Hongjoong are doing behind our backs?”

Yunho shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Uh huh,” San deadpans. “I totally believe you.”

“We’re not doing anything, San,” Yunho tells him in all seriousness. It’s not really San’s business that they’re in a super convenient unspoken buddy-fucking situation anyway. 

“You’re in his room all the time, don’t think I don’t notice you sneaking out.” San accuses, arms folded against his chest defiantly. “Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” Yunho denies, ignoring the embarrassment making his cheeks heat. “I swear, we’re just kind of collabing on a...thing. A secret project for the managers to approve.”

San scowls harder. “So why can’t you tell me? One of your best friends?”

“Because I just can’t.” Yunho answers more aggressively than he meant to seeing San flinch at his volume. “Sorry. If there was something to tell, or something I _could_ tell, you’d be the first to know."

“Fine.” San glowers a moment longer. “What are you playing?”

Yunho schools him in the fine art of Beautiful Horse Management in Red Dead Redemption. The subject of what he may or may not be doing is dropped in favor of ooing and cooing over his Missouri Fox Trotter named Biscuit.

**\------- **

Hongjoong’s twitter goes silent after another Sunday where they were left to their own devices in the dorm again, reacquainting themselves with every horizontal surface and also the cleaning supply closet. Yunho supposes his hyung’s needy tweeting is satiated for the time being.

Until his shirts start going missing again.

Hongjoong, on twitter again after only a few days of not being able to catch a moment alone, posts pictures of his dick tenting the fabric of Yunho’s favorite Bape hoodie.

“Hyung, are you trying to kill me?” Yunho asks and thinks it’s a fair question.

“No,” Hongjoong pants hot and open above him, nude except for the very same hoodie unzipped, trying to hold both their cocks in his fist. It barely wraps around their combined girth on an upstroke. “I’m trying to make you cum, asshole.”

Yunho doesn’t dignify that with a response, only shoves Hongjoong’s hand out of the way to take over and pull him down to swallow the moans Hongjoong breathes into his mouth.

**\------- **

The trouble with trying to remain friendly with your continuous midweek hookup, is that, at some point, Yunho should probably actually try and put in some effort to keep it that way. 

Friendly.

He’s sitting on the couch supervising an intense Mario Kart tournament between the Jongho and Mingi team versus Wooyoung and Yeosang with San playing the part of unofficial announcer. Hongjoong, looking faraway and strangely upset, rounds the corner in the living room and walks up to hide his face in Yunho’s neck. 

Yunho ignores him but for a pat on the head, eyes laser focused on the screen in front of them. No one else seems to notice, or care, but the proximity of his hyung in front of the rest of the members makes his stomach go hot and squirmy with unease. 

“His lordship graces us with his presence!” San crows into a hairbrush, his pretend microphone of choice. “Hongjoong-hyung, care to weigh in on who you think is going to win?”

“Probably Mingi,” Hongjoong sighs. His voice is quieter than Yunho is used to and something about the tone sends his skin prickling. “Yunho, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Can it wait?” Yunho shifts away from Hongjoong’s body heat. “They’re on the last lap, I get to decide the punishment of whoever loses and Mingi owes me money.”

“It’s going to be Mingi,” Yeosang says mildly, hands flicking over the controller at speed while Wooyoung cheers him on.

“No way, you’re going down, dude,” Mingi growls back. “Jongho, tell him.”

Jongho doesn’t say anything, too busy staring at where Hongjoong is huddled close along Yunho’s side like he _ knows_. Yunho avoids eye contact, tries to subtly move Hongjoong farther away with his elbow. 

“Just text it to me, whatever it is, hyung.” Yunho says quietly, hoping it doesn’t carry over the sound of the jaunty electronic music. 

Hongjoong sighs, physically wilting like all the wind has been let out of his sails at once. “Nevermind, forget it.” 

He trudges out of the room and out of the front door nearly as silently as when he’d arrived, ghostlike amid the trashtalk happening in front of the screen. Yunho watches him leave wondering if he’s missed something.

When he turns back, Jongho and Yeosang are both giving him frowning looks of disapproval, Yeosang’s distraction giving Mingi enough of an in that he nudges Yeosang off course and out of the lead. San starts laughing high pitched into Wooyoung’s ears, beating him around the shoulders as Mingi crows in victory.

Yunho offers high fives all around and tells himself to stop worrying about it.

**\-------**

The _ other _ thing about fucking your friends is that Yunho probably should have asked to have their relationship explicitly defined before he stood backstage flirting shamelessly with a hyung from his old dance academy. It’s directly after their latest stage performance and no one is really looking for him yet, too busy motioning the next round of idol hopefuls to the stage.

“I can’t believe you’ve already made your debut,” Lee Jihoon says, mystified. He’s a head taller than Yunho and his arms are really very nice to look at caging him in on one side. “It’s only been, what, two years?”

“Something like that yeah,” Yunho bashfully admits. “What are you doing these days though? I thought you went back to that academy in Busan.”

Jihoon shrugs. His shoulders are wide and muscular and sturdy; Yunho’s mouth goes a little dry imagining hanging off them. “I did, but I got a callback from Plug In to lead a backup troupe and here I am.” Jihoon grins. Yunho is momentarily blinded by white teeth and dimples. Dimples! “How’s idol life treating you?”

“Can’t complain,” Yunho inches a half step closer. “It’s a little lonely, though. Sometimes.”

Jihoon’s eyes darken just the slightest bit even in the brightly lit hallway. “That’s a shame.” A harried looking stagehand bustles passed with an armload of unused microphones shoving Jihoon even closer into Yunho’s orbit. The man breathes hot and humid against his ear. “Do you happen to still have my number?”

Yunho shakes his head. They’d all given up their contact lists to management when they signed on and Jihoon had been one of the first in the purge. Jihoon huffs a small laugh before grabbing Yunho’s hand and a pen from his pocket to write the numbers as discreetly as possible halfway up his arm.

An overhead announcement sounds for the backup team just as he finishes the last number. “Call me,” Jihoon says with a wink before disappearing into the crowded hallway.

It figures that Hongjoong finds him before Yunho can stop grinning excitedly down at his arm and cover up the newly acquired information. 

“Yunho! There you are, manager-nim says we need to—what’s that?” Hongjoong zeroes in on the numbers scrawled across his skin.

“Oh, um, nothing you need to worry about,” Yunho gets his sleeve back in place. 

Hongjoong looks pissed, face scrunched awkwardly around a scowl. “Why do you have a phone number on your arm?”

“Why do you care? It’s not like it affects you,” Yunho says defensively, holding a palm over his sleeve like he’s worried Hongjoong is going to somehow rip the numbers away. 

“It doesn’t—” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Hongjoong’s eyes go huge and open and shiny. “It doesn’t affect me?”

“No?” Yunho answers wonderingly, unsure where this is coming from. “Me going on a date isn’t going to mess with the group, I swear, you don’t have to worry.”

Hongjoong sucks in a breath, chest inflating like a peacock about to make their grand display or like he’s about to fight, but he blows it out in one swift gust. “Right, yeah, the group. Wouldn’t want to affect the _ group_.”

Like a light bulb finally going on, Yunho has an epiphany. Oh! 

“Hyung,” Yunho steps forward to pull him in tight against his body and husks in Hongjoong’s ear, “We can still have sex whenever you want, that’s not going to change until I actually date someone.”

Hongjoong shoves him away with a glare and a muttered, “Goddammit, Yunho.” 

In the greenroom, Hongjoong doesn’t speak unless spoken to and keeps close to Seonghwa. The bitterness on his tongue comes back the longer he watches the two of them fall over each other like sleepy kittens. Warmth he would ordinarily feel at his group members being affectionate with one another turns to frigid ice.

Whatever. He’s got a number to call, anyway.

He completely misses both Yeosang and Jongho giving him the stink eye.

**\--------**

Hongjoong’s twitter goes silent. No updates, no late night thirsting threads, no likes or retweets of his favorite porn clips of the week. Nothing. Nada. It’s a little odd, considering, but Yunho chalks it up to nerves for the upcoming tour and the masochistic hours Hongjoong spends in his tiny cupboard sized studio. 

He sees him at breakfast for brief seconds. At practice, Hongjoong hangs beside Seonghwa or Wooyoung or San and doesn’t make any attempt at conversation with Yunho himself. He doesn’t acknowledge his presence at all, which is super shitty and Yunho has half a mind to tell him as much.

“Hyung-ah,” Yunho has him cornered in the hallway before they’re hustled into the company van for schedules. “Is everything okay? You’ve been acting strange lately.”

Hongjoong is pale, lips thin, and he refuses to make eye contact. “Everything is _ fine_, Yunho.” 

It has to be tour nerves. There’s no other explanation and their hyung is always a big bundle of nervous energy when it comes to performing. “Hongjoong-hyung, if this is about the tour, you need to stop worrying so much. We always do great on stage, you _ know _ that.” Yunho gives him a friendly nudge into his waist.

Hongjoong offers only a wan smile in response and a small pat on the arm. It’s the most contact they’ve had in days and Yunho’s skin feels close to burning in the places where his fingertips touch. Ever since the scene at the performance stage, all of Yunho’s attempts at maybe having a fun romp in the practice room or in Hongjoong’s shared bunk go ignored or left on read. 

Yunho is strangely upset by the loss.

**\--------**

Lee Jihoon texts him on a Friday night and they make plans to meet up the next day for coffee and a movie. Nothing extravagant considering the both of them have piss-poor salaries but it’s _ something_.

At dinner, Yunho announces, “I’ve got a date tomorrow. Who wants to help me pick out an outfit?”

The room goes silent. The only sound is the tinny pitch of Hongjoong’s fork clattering against the thin porcelain bowl provided by the company. 

“You have a date?” Wooyoung asks. “With who?”

“A hyung from my old dance academy, Mingi knows him.” 

“The guy from the hallway,” Hongjoong intones from across the table. Seonghwa reaches over to rub his back like a mother consoling her child. Yunho holds back a frown.

“Yeah.”

Hongjoong face crumples inward before declaring he’s not hungry and slams the door on his way out of the dorm, presumably on his way to work in his studio. The other members, aside from Wooyoung who is shifting Hongjoong’s plate in front of himself to finish off the kimchi fried rice, all give Yunho varying degrees of disapproving looks.

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“That was pretty low for you, honestly,” Mingi finally pipes up. “There is such a thing as tact, man.” 

Yunho boggles at him uncomprehending. Tact about _ what_? Potentially being romanced while everyone else is single? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He’s talking about Hongjoong-hyung’s obvious crush on you.” Jongho supplies, stabbing at a piece of broccoli with more force than Yunho thinks is necessary. 

“Hongjoong doesn’t have a crush on me.” Seonghwa makes a snort of disgust. “He doesn’t!”

“Keep telling yourself that, whatever makes you feel better,” Seonghwa wipes his mouth on a napkin. “I’m going to make sure Hongjoong doesn’t walk into traffic. Yunho, you’re on dish duty.”

Yunho groans. “It’s Hongjoong and San’s night for dishes, though.”

Seonghwa shrugs while San cheers and offers him a kiss on his knuckles. “Sucks to be you.”

“You’re all just jealous,” Yunho mutters and goes back to making a dent in his own meal.

**\--------**

His date with Jihoon goes okay. 

The movie is a little boring, but the conversation at the coffee shop is nice and friendly, a welcome respite from the disappointed faces of his group he’d left that morning. Jihoon buys him a latte and they split an ice cream sundae, but for some reason Yunho can’t get the image of Hongjoong’s crumpled chin out of his mind long enough to enjoy it.

Jihoon pulls him into a side alley on the way back to the dorm and drops a kiss to his mouth. It’s...okay. Nothing spectacular. It doesn’t make Yunho want to beg for more like the ones Hongjoong would plant on him in secret. Jihoon must catch on because he doesn’t ask for a second date, just smiles at the entrance to Yunho’s building and offers him an affectionate, “Good luck.”  
  
Good luck with _ what_, Yunho doesn’t know.

**\--------**

That night Yunho lies awake for a long time, nerves fried from second guessing every second of his date. San is still awake, too, typing into his weird three-way chat with Wooyoung and Seonghwa nobody questions for fear of finding out the answer.

“San.” No response but the tip tapping of his fingers on the screen continues. Yunho kicks the underside of the bunk, gently. “San!”

“What now, asshole,” San hisses back.

Yunho chews the inside of his lip for a moment before he has the courage to ask, “Does Hongjoong really like me?”

“Yes,” San answers with no hesitation as if it’s a known fact of the universe. “Duh.”

“Since when?”

“Since like ever, dude. I don’t know how his brain works,” San leans over the side of the bunk to give Yunho the full frontal assault of his sad, judgemental eyebrows. “I don’t know what you two were getting up to with that ‘special project’, but it obviously meant a lot to hyung. You abandoning it to go suck face with that guy out of the blue was pretty garbage on your part.”

“Special proj—_ oh_.” Yunho’s stomach curdles further and he’s hit by the realization that he may in fact be a monumental piece of shit. “Oh god.”

How did he not connect the dots? Hongjoong had made it blatantly obvious about his attraction, but the emotional aspect…

Every single kiss pressed to his mouth; every giggled suggestive comment before practice; every gentle, stilted hand holding under the table before they ran off to rut against one another in a closed off room, all of it, adds up to one simple fact:

Hongjoong _ likes _ him. 

Hongjoong hadn't signed up for a fuckbuddy.

Hongjoong would have dated him. Before. Though probably not _ now _ since Yunho is apparently an oblivious user and ruined things between them.

San watches him have his existential crisis upside down for a long moment. “How do _ you _ feel about hyung?”

Yunho opens and closes his mouth as he searches for a solution. He gives up, “I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out and give him some kind of answer so we can all move the fuck on,” San scrubs a hand down his face and twists back to land on his own mattress. “I swear, you two are going to give me an ulcer.”

Yunho drops into exhausted sleep just as early morning birdsong starts to filter through the window.

**\--------**

Yunho still hasn’t figured out his own feelings, but a week later Hongjoong starts updating his twitter again. He’d forgotten to unsubscribe when his hyung started giving him the cold shoulder and the chime of the alerts makes Yunho’s heart jump into his throat. There are no pictures this time, thankfully, just sad and somewhat lonely texts asking for interaction as a distraction from his breakup. 

“Not so much a breakup on his part, I think,” Hongjoong writes. “It was all me. I just wanted too much.”

To say Yunho’s heart shatters would be an understatement. It feels as if tiny little knives start invading his bloodstream, little pinpricks of hurt stabbing him on alternating pulses. God, but he’s an idiot.

Hongjoong finishes the thread: “It was nice to be wanted back for once but the dream is over and now I’m just...anyway. My DMs are open. Talk dirty to me while I cry.”

Yunho swallows back bile. Hongjoong had never offered private texting sessions, not _ once _ since his account opened almost a year ago. The cascade of users jumping at the bit to send him filthy encouragement is… 

Yunho scrolls back to the beginning. To the post that started this mess of Hongjoong’s mouth gaped open and captioned with a message begging for dick. DMs locked. No replies to any of the comments. Yunho scrolls up. Another picture of a hidden thigh hickey after they’d had the first weekend to themselves, with comments about Hongjoong being a lucky boy—he didn’t reply then, either.

Towards the top, after several vague subtweets Yunho had already seen directed at him to visit the room or to find him in that one closet outside of the MBC showroom, is a tweet that says: 

“I think I’m projecting my feelings on to him. Someone give me advice.”

It’s the first and only time Hongjoong had responded to comments, actual advice-giving comments filled with well wishes and support. The post is from around the time of the Mario Kart tournament. Yunho wonders if Hongjoong was going to try and explain his feelings that day and retroactively hates himself for blowing him off.

There’s a period of nothing afterwards. Yunho is smart enough to know it began when Jihoon-hyung arrived and subsequently started back up when Yunho left. 

Morbidly curious, Yunho opens the latest comments to see Hongjoong’s responses. What he finds...how it makes his chest clench…

“San,” Yunho whispers in the dark, eyes never leaving the way way Hongjoong is offering himself up like a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. “San, I think I like Hongjoong-hyung.”

“That’s great, I’m very proud of you,” San whispers back, sleep soft and muffled. “Please shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

**\--------**

Just because he’s finally come to terms with his feelings for Hongjoong, it doesn’t make it any easier to talk to him. Hongjoong still avoids him like the plague. Even Seonghwa runs interference when the group is forced to be in one place at the same time. 

“Give him some space,” Seonghwa says, holding Yunho at arm’s length after practice. “He just needs some time to himself, okay?”

It doesn’t matter though. They’ve got a tour to pack and practice and sweat for, there’s promotions to think about and interviews to memorize. Management hands out room assignments and Yunho pales when he’s handed a slip of paper with his and Hongjoong’s names on it, along with the list of hotel rooms and what to pack.

“We can switch out if you want,” Mingi offers. “San’s your perpetual roommate, you can keep him for all I care.”

“Heard that,” San calls from across the room. “You’d best be sleeping with one eye open this tour.”

Seonghwa grudgingly offers his space with Yeosang, too, but Yunho denies them both and Hongjoong just waves everyone’s concern away. “It’s fine,” he tells Seonghwa on the plane, “It’s whatever, I’m over it.”

All hotels look the same. Same twin beds, same sad little nightstands with low level lighting, same starched linens that make Yunho’s legs itch from too much detergent. Hongjoong doesn’t say anything to him when they stumble in from the airport, just hunkers down in one bed with his laptop propped in his lap to work on music.

Yunho watches him with his shirt twisted between his hands and his palms sweating, like he’s thirteen again and confessing to Min Soyeon who was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen by virtue of her hair being longer than her neck.

“Hyung—”

“Don’t.” Hongjoong stops him with a glare. “I’m not interested in whatever it is you want me to do for you now.”

“But—”

“No.” Hongjoong slams his laptop shut. “I’m going to Seonghwa’s room, don’t follow me.”

The dismissal hurts. Worse than Yunho was expecting and he lashes out. “Fucking fine then. See if I care.”

Hongjoong’s chin wobbles like he’s going to say something—like he’s going to _ cry_—before he takes a deep breath and stomps out of the room. Yunho flops back into his bed to scream into the middle of the line quality down stuffed pillows.

What a great attempt at a confession, moron. Yunho debates taking a running leap out of the hotel window, if not for the fact this is the second floor and at worst he’d just bruise his knees.

**\--------**

Hongjoong sports deep bruises beneath his eyes the next morning that makes guilt gnaw at the back of Yunho’s mind. There was a time, not that long ago, when Yunho could walk up and kiss the tender skin until Hongjoong laughed and pushed him away. Or pulled him closer. 

Mingi drops a cold water bottle on his head when they break for lunch in their old stomping grounds in L.A. “Hey, you never told me how your date went. When are you seeing what’s his face again?”

Yunho drinks half the bottle in one go. “It went. I’m not going to see him again unless it’s, like, backstage somewhere and he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mingi settles against his side with his feet kicked out. “I thought you’d already planned a second date, my bad.”

“What? Why?”

Mingi hums. “That’s what Hongjoong-hyung seemed to think the other day when I talked to him. Guess he was wrong.” His best friend taps their shoes together. “Are you guys okay yet?”

Yunho watches through the wall length mirror as Hongjoong laughs at something Yeosang says, smile hidden behind delicate fingers completely at odds with the toned muscular arms on display. It hits him, then, that he’d never told Hongjoong that Jihoon wasn’t even on his radar anymore. He’d been so busy floating around in his own head that he’d forgotten to tell _ anyone _ that his date was a one time thing.

Suddenly, Hongjoong’s anger made more sense. He’s still under the impression Yunho wants to fuck on the downlow while he tried to date a dude from his past. Yunho stares at his hyung a beat longer until Mingi waves a hand in front of his face. 

“I think we will be,” Yunho finally turns his attention back to Mingi with a smile. “Soon.”

**\--------**

They’ve been crowded into a single party room of some restaurant he can’t pronounce the name of and Yunho fear sweats through two layers of shirt. Just miles and miles of damp cotton and polyester blend. Yunho waits for his opening while the film crew finishes packing up their gear and management shuffles the stylist team into a separate room. Even with nerves making his fingertips jitter he feels calm. 

Ready.

Incredibly fucking stupid for taking this long to own up to his feelings, yes, but ready nonetheless.

Finally, the doors close leaving the group some measure of privacy. Yunho bides his time until Hongjoong goes to take a sip of his water, clears his throat, and—

“I have super gay feelings for Hongjoong-hyung,” Yunho announces. “Anyone have a problem with that?”

Several things happen at once:

Hongjoong spews water half way across the table into Seonghwa’s face and starts choking. Yunho has to physically turn himself away from the table to keep from laughing too hard at the sight of water dripping off Seonghwa’s nose.

Seonghwa and Mingi both start yelling. Though, Seonghwa is mostly upset about the water dripping down his nose than the announcement and Mingi is incapable of not making noise, so. 

Wooyoung starts crying. San tugs him into his chest to help him hide it but his happy sobs echo in the room like low level background static.

Jongho and Yeosang both exchange glances before saying, almost in tandem, “We fucking know.”

Yunho watches them all fondly. “So, no objections?” Several head shakes—and a nasally, “No,” from Wooyoung—circle around the table. He turns to a crimson-faced, still coughing Hongjoong, “Hyung?”

“What?” Hongjoong croaks, voice wrecked from choking.

He sounds like a toad with a cold. Yunho decides he likes him anyway. “Any objections?” 

Hongjoong gapes before giving a stumbled, “N-no,” and hides into his plate of pasta.

“Okay. Good,” Yunho says, extremely smug and happy with himself for not chickening out. “Someone pass me the salt.”

Hongjoong sends him overwhelmed looks all throughout dinner and the car ride back to the hotel. San gives him a discreet thumbs up over dessert while Seonghwa makes throat cutting motions across the table. 

Yunho ignores all of them to shovel sfogliatella covered in heaping piles of powdered sugar into his mouth, a reward for finally getting the message across and a bracing sugar high to get him through the awful conversation later.

**\--------**

The silence when they get back to the room is awkward but not unexpected. It’s marginally better than the angry cold shoulder except Hongjoong still isn’t speaking to him.

Yunho doesn’t pry. He’s not going to push for anything since he was, apparently, taking advantage of Hongjoong’s good graces and still feels gross about it. Sitting on the edge of his mattress and fiddling with a string that’s come loose from the stitching, Hongjoong finally opens his mouth.

“Do you really?” His voice wavers, pitiful and small. Yunho would give his left arm to get Hongjoong’s confidence back and hates that he's the reason it's gone.

“It’s what I said, isn’t it?” Yunho fires back. He crawls across his own bed, stopping in the middle so he’s directly across from Hongjoong in case it makes him uncomfortable. The feral kitten analogy from before plays in his mind’s eye of Hongjoong skittering away if he gets too close. “Hyung. Hongjoong, I like you.”

“Because of the sex,” Hongjoong’s expression sours.

“No.” _ Please _. They were terrible at sex, it was just better together than apart and figuring it out as they went along was at least nine tenths of the fun.

Hongjoong bites the inside of his lip, tiny divot appearing along the bottom edge. “Because of the pictures on twitter,” he hedges.

“No,” Yunho reconsiders. “Okay, to be fair they definitely kickstarted it, but I like you for _ you_. Not the porn or the pictures or that thing you can do with your tongue.” Yunho slides the rest of the way across the bed to grab Hongjoong’s face, skittishness be damned, and squishes his cheeks together despite Hongjoong’s glare. His eyes are pitch dark though, so Yunho thinks he’s got a good shot here. “I really like you. How do you feel about me?”

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything for a long time. Long enough that Yunho feels awkward holding his face and drops his hands back to his lap. He blows out a breath. 

“I’ve liked you for a while.” Hongjoong sighs, defeated, and joins Yunho on the bed, buries his face in Yunho’s chest when he opens his arms. “I like you, Yunho.”

“Good.” Yunho kisses his forehead. “But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hongjoong groans. “Because I was under the impression you _ knew, _numbnuts.”

“Hyung.” Yunho hugs him closer. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out.”

“Yeah, well,” Hongjoong breathes tremulously into Yunho’s shoulder. “My fault for assuming you’re not an idiot.”

“The biggest, but at least I’m _ your _ idiot. Right?” Yunho tries, hope springing eternal.

Yunho watches the slow, trembling movement of Hongjoong’s lips enraptured as if he’s finally seeing the sun after a period of endless dark. 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong smiles. “Mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to believe Hongjoong blueballs Yunho for like three months after this as payback.
> 
> \- Ash <3


End file.
